


angel red.

by angel_red



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: (like hardly any though), Catholic Guilt, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Short One Shot, almost no dialogue actually it's all description, loooots of description sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:33:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25371694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_red/pseuds/angel_red
Summary: cherri cola is honestly quite in love with kobra kid.
Relationships: Agent Cherri Cola/Kobra Kid (Danger Days)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	angel red.

he’s all fire and spit. tattoos up and down his body make a map of ink. he’s got sharper canines than he’s supposed to have. they cut my lip open once when we were kissing. he apologized by way of kissing me harder - i didn’t object. his kisses are all taking, taking, taking. taking the life out of me. i don’t know where it goes, or what he does with it, but whenever we finish, i’m always tired and sore. and him? he’s smiling like he’s never been hurt once in his life. playful, like a little kitten. he’d bat my string for hours if i let him. when we first started this - whatever the hell this is, sitting on each others’ beds sharing tongue-burning, nerve-jolting, eye-widening cups of black coffee, sharing kisses when we’re alone, hands exploring skin like we’ve never touched before - i was a stuttery mess. i’d never had a boyfriend who liked me for me before. and when i choked out an “i love you” for the first time, that night in the rain, he took me in his arms, his eyes full of tears, and kissed me, whispering “say it again”.

so i did. i said it again and again. every morning since that night, when he wakes up beside me, i roll over and kiss him, whispering a million “i love you”s until he starts laughing cause geez cola, why’re you such a morning person? and i respond with a shrug, and he reaches up, running his hands through the colored streak in my hair, and tells me that he can get new dye if i need any, cause it’s getting brown again. 

he’s sitting there now, shirt off, sunglasses pushed back on his head. his roots are showing too: his roots always grow back a lot faster than mine. “hey,” he says, his red jacket balled up in his lap. he’s sitting propped up against the pillows, his face lit by the flames of the candles i keep on the windowsill and the nightstand. he gives me a rare smile, waiting for me to sit down beside him.

i do, of course. the bed creaks under my weight, but i don’t mind. the bed is so old that it’s a wonder it’s still standing. doesn’t help that me and kobra get up to a lot of stuff in this bed. if anyone else was in the building, they would hear the creaking every time we moved. “hey,” i smile back. i don’t mind this at all - sitting with kobra, him leaning against me, his head on my shoulder, as i take in the room for the millionth time. it always looks a bit different when kobra’s here, filling up the room with his raspy laugh and his magic hands, peeling off my sweat-soaked shirt, dog tags clinking gently on his chest. my matching set is in my jeans pocket - the chain broke, and i haven’t had time to fix it yet.

“you shiny?” his voice is raspy from years of smoking like a brush fire - and maybe from underuse. when me and him first met, i only heard him say two things in three months. usually lost in his thoughts, i know now. focused on whatever he’s doing.

“perfectly,” i reply, turning my head and fitting my mouth to his. it’s such a simple gesture, so easy and almost methodical from all the times i’ve done it before. he smells like smoke like he does always. i can taste root beer and metal on his lips, like when you lick a battery just to see what happens. 

surprisingly, this is normal now. never thought it would be. my mom taught me that the person in my dreams was a nice girl with involvement in the church, not some wild-haired boy with sharp teeth and utter disdain for all things religious. the person i thought about at night was clean and smart and wouldn’t even think about doing… uhm… activities with me until our honeymoon. but kobra kid is sharp and smudged and blurred at the edges, all raspy whispers and slapdash outfits, wearing turtlenecks in the desert cause they “look good”, never taking those damn sunglasses off, with his hatred of small talk and his hurried, rushed, gotta-get-it-done way of living. no pleasantries when we see each other - no “hey, how are you doing?”, just his mouth against mine and his fiery breath on my neck, his fingers walking up my scarred arms like spiders, pale and crooked.

sitting there, on my bed, in the candlelight, leaning against my boyfriend (my boyfriend!!!), his cold hands on my chest, not talking, just… being there. with him. it just fills me up with so much love, for kobra, for this fucked-up, wild, staticked world where every second either of us could die. i could die in the next couple minutes, and i think that would be okay. cause i’ve got my time. i’ve had my high, i think. my climax of my life, with kobra. this, right here, right now, all hot breath and dry air. i think i could die peacefully, knowing that i’ve spent my time with someone who cared about me, like i cared about him. and fucked around quite a bit with him, made some memories. 

and whether i live only a couple seconds more or to the age of eighty-four, i think this will always be my climax. kobra kid will always be the highlight of my life. and i wouldn’t mind sailing into the unknown like so many ‘joys before us if i got to stand right next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <33 if you have any questions for me, my tumblr is @angelred! i'll get to u there i promise :)


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